Heartbeat.

I lay my head on my lover’s chest and listen to his heartbeat. Rhythmic. Soothing. Repetitive.

It is in this moment that I am the most at ease, and yet I am also the most mortified.

What if the beating suddenly stopped?

All that lies between me and this beating heart is a sack of blood and flesh.

I become painfully aware of my own mortality.

So many things can break the body.

Each day keeping this soul bound to its flesh becomes an ever-increasing challenge.

As time moves faster like a stone rolling down a hill to an inevitable crash, so too does the rate at which these bodies decay.

My own attempts to slow the inevitable decent does nothing to keep my mind from the truth:

One day his heart will stop beating and soon after, so will mine.